Learn to Fly
by Crystallic Rain
Summary: Outtakes and missing moments from 'These Broken Wings'. Chapter Five, "Soulmate": Blaine and Kurt hear about the happenings in each other's lives as the years go on.
1. wallet: chapter one outtake

**learn to fly  
>(t<em>hese broken wings<em> outtakes)**

**Notes: **This one... I'm sorry. I cried while writing it.

Send in prompts for more outtakes. Already have a list of eight more. But yes, send me ideas so I know what you want to read.

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><p><strong>wallet : chapter one outtake;<strong>

Kurt heard the rapping on the apartment door and jolted awake. He placed a hand in his forehead, willing the pounding to stop. After a moment of silence, the knocking returned and Kurt pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his robe and pulling it on over his pajamas.

"Daddy?" He turned at the tiny voice, looking at his son apologetically. "Wha's so loud?"

"I don't know, A," he sighed, scooping up the three-year-old in his arms and making his way to the door. He glanced out the peephole, his breath hitching slightly as he saw two police officers outside in the hallway. He swallowed thickly, sliding open the two locks before opening the door.

"Mr. Hummel?" one of them, the man, asked.

Kurt looked at them nervously, and nodded shortly. "Can I help you?" he asked.

The female officer glanced at her partner before looking at Kurt once again. "Could we come in?" she asked him gently.

Kurt stared at them blankly for a moment before stepping back. "Of course," he said shakily, allowing the cops to enter. He slowly set Aiden down on the floor, pushing softly against his back. "Go back to bed, sweetheart," he murmured.

Aiden pouted. "But Daddy—"

"_Bed,_" Kurt told him forcefully. "If I go in to check on you and you're not sleeping, you'll be in big trouble."

Aiden continued to frown, but shuffled off back into his bedroom. Kurt quickly followed, pulling his door shut tight behind him before returning to the living room where the two officers were standing.

"You can sit, if you like," Kurt told them, still apprehensive about their presence. "Can I—would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you, Mr. Hummel," the woman said kindly.

Kurt nodded vaguely. "So what is it that I can help you with?" he asked carefully.

The woman glanced at her partner again, who sighed. She nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Mr. Hummel, we're here about your husband Alexander—"

"What about him?" Kurt asked quickly, his throat feeling painfully tight. "What—what about Alex?"

The woman looked at him sadly. "Mr. Hummel, we found your husband on a side street near his work..."

"What do you mean you '_found him_'?" Kurt asked in a low, shaky voice. He sucked in a breath, willing himself to keep his composure. It was nothing. Surely they couldn't mean...

Again the woman looked to the other officer. "Mr. Hummel, Alex was found with serious head trauma," he said. "He was pronounced dead on the scene."

Kurt clenched his jaw. "No," he said simply. "You're wrong. It's not him—it's not—"

"Mr. Hummel, we found his wallet and identification on him," the female officer told him gently. The man pulled the familiar black leather wallet from his pocket, holding it out to Kurt. The brunette stared at it for a moment, recognizing the completely worn-through corner and the v-shaped tear on its surface. Hesitantly, Kurt took it from the officer, opening it up to see his husband's photo on his ID staring at him, smiling behind the clear plastic, a wallet-size print of him and Alex and Aiden on the other side, from over a year before.

Kurt felt his chest constrict painfully. "No," he murmured quickly, sinking onto the couch a little less than gracefully. "No," he repeated, "there's been a mistake." He looked at the officers pleadingly. "Please, there _must_ be a mistake."

The woman sat in the chair across from him, looking at him sympathetically and placing a hand on his knee. "I am _so_ sorry, Mr. Hummel," she told him softly.

Kurt quickly shook his head, placing a hand to his mouth as he snapped the wallet shut, clutching it tightly against his other palm. "But—but _why—?"_ He broke off, unable to finish his sentence. He didn't blink too hard, afraid of letting the tears that were forming in his eyes actually fall. He glanced up at the ceiling, hoping that perhaps he could at least postpone the crying until he was alone again.

He heard as the man in the room took a deep breath. "We're investigating," he assured him. "But... as we found his wallet, we obviously don't believe it was a robbery." He paused heavily. "We believe he was purposefully targeted."

"_Why_?" Kurt asked again, and he looked to the man, who was suddenly directing his attention away, and then to the woman, who was looking at him with an even worse expression of sadness. "No," he muttered, shaking his head violently. "No, you _can't_ think it was—not because he's—he's _gay_?"

The female officer licked her lips, still looking at Kurt with a heart-broken expression. "Mr. Hummel—"

"No!" Kurt shouted. "No, _no_. This was—this was one of the reasons I came here!" he told them desperately, as though it would somehow make a difference. "This isn't Lima. This—this wasn't—_this isn't supposed to happen_."

"I'm so sorry—"

"Stop," Kurt snapped. "I just—I can't. This isn't—this isn't _right_." He shook his head again, putting a shaking hand to his forehead. "Please, I—I need to be alone."

The woman nodded, standing up and returning to her partner. "We'll call the moment we find anything, Mr. Hummel," he said, and Kurt nodded absently, unable to look at the officers again, listening for the door to close behind them.

The moment he heard the familiar sound, he rose his hand clutching the wallet to his chest, taking in a breath as deep as he could, though it felt as though no air was filling his lungs. He gasped for air again before a broken sob escaped his lips, and he placed his other hand on top of the wallet, as though his husband's heart was beating inside the leather, desperate to just feel some part of him.

"Daddy?"

Kurt forced his eyes up, placing a hand over his mouth as he tried to steady his breathing. Aiden quickly made it to the man's side, climbing onto the couch and weaving his tiny arms around the man's middle.

Kurt forced himself to breathe deeply, to try to regain his composure for his son, the wallet still in one hand, the other still ghosting over his lips.

"Dada's not coming home, is he?" came Aiden's tiny voice again, and if Kurt's heart wasn't already shattered into a million pieces, it definitely was then. He swallowed thickly, willing himself not to break again for the sake of his son. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, pulling him onto his lap.

Aiden moved his arms up, hugging his father's neck tightly, hiding his face in the man's shoulder. Kurt's hand jumped up to quickly smooth the boy's hair, running over the back of his head comfortingly. He found himself unable to answer the question. Instead, he swallowed thickly and took a deep shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry, Aiden," he whispered in a tight voice.


	2. hummingbird 1: chapter nineteen outtake

**learn to fly**

**Notes:** I put this in two parts, since they're not _completely _related. Anyway, here it is for sailingaway11, who asked for Blaine finding and buying the brooch. I already had this one on my list and half written, so I finished it up quickly!

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><p><strong>hummingbird (part one) : chapter nineteen outtake;<strong>

Blaine took the cup of coffee from the counter, sighing heavily as he added cream and sugar. It had been a long weekend, as he slowly packed up his life in boxes, preparing for the move back to Ohio to take care of his mother. She needed him, he knew, and since his niece was only a few years old, he didn't expect his brother to be the one to do it. He couldn't; he had his own family now.

And somehow, New York hadn't felt like home to Blaine in a long time.

He picked up one of the local periodicals, taking a seat at a table and flipping through the paper. Part of him argued that he should be back at his place, finishing the packing, but he desperately needed the break.

It was then that he noticed the small ad in the corner of one page, mentioning a few young men selling off an extensive jewelry collection at an estate sale that afternoon. He raised an eyebrow as he put the coffee to his lips. Maybe he could find something interesting for his mother. She hadn't been the same since the death of Blaine's father just a few months before. Maybe Blaine could get her to remind her of the presents she used to get from her husband. He quickly entered the address into his phone, and after he finished his coffee, he set off for the house.

When he arrived, there were a few others looking curiously around the house, picking up objects and examining them with interest. Blaine found it all so strange, the way some people could look at the items sitting out at an estate sale as though they were at an antique shop, not sifting through a person's home. He merely shrugged it off, rounding the corner into the dining room where he spotted the long table covered in jewelry. Suddenly, he felt as though the ad had made a vast understatement, and he approached the table, waiting for something to catch his eye.

And then suddenly, something did. Sitting among necklaces and earrings and rings and other jewels was a gold hummingbird. Quickly he picked it up, turning it over in his hands, as though trying to prove it to be fake or an imitation. But the way the the beak was bent, and the idea that the woman was a collector...

"Thinking about buying it?"

Blaine turned, seeing a man smiling tiredly at him.

"My name's Tim," he told Blaine. "I'm one of the sons running the sale."

Blaine nodded, extending his free hand. "Blaine," he said. "How much would you want for this?"

"Danny said it's _real_ and all that, so I've got to ask for something decent," he explained. "Five hundred?" he asked, shrugging one shoulder.

Blaine's eyes widened. "I don't—"

"If that's too much—"

"No," Blaine quickly said. "It's... I don't think you realize what you have here," he told him with a slight laugh, and Tim came closer to him, looking at the brooch more carefully. "This was a piece that was auctioned off years ago. It used to belong to Elizabeth Taylor."

"The actress?" Tim asked curiously. "My mom was into that sort of thing. I can't say I'm really surprised."

"Her jewels sold for thousands a piece," Blaine told him. "This isn't any different. I would expect to pay _at least_ fifteen hundred—"

"Five hundred," Tim repeated.

Blaine stared at him blankly. "But—"

"Look Blaine," Tim said with a smile, "I have no use for it, and my mom already passed on the really meaningful stuff to our sisters. I can tell you're a good guy, if you're trying to tell me you should be paying three times what I'm asking. If you were just some crazy collector, you would have jumped at the price I gave you." He paused slightly. "You're not even getting it for yourself, are you?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I'm not."

Tim nodded. "For your mom?" he asked, and Blaine shook his head.

"It's for..." he trailed off, feeling slightly foolish at the idea.

"Some special girl?" Tim asked. "Or guy?" he added after a second of thought.

"Yeah," Blaine murmured vaguely. "Something like that."

"Well, Blaine," Tim said, "write me a check for five hundred and it's all yours."


	3. hummingbird 2: chapter nineteen outtake

**learn to fly**

**Notes:** Aaand here's part two. Enjoy! D

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><p><strong>hummingbird (part 2) : chapter nineteen outtake;<strong>

There was a knock on the apartment door. "It's open!" Blaine shouted, and he glanced up, watching as Christian came inside. "Hey," Blaine said breathlessly, standing up, giving Christian a quick peck on the lips.

"Ready to load this stuff up?" Christian asked.

"Almost," Blaine said with a nod.

Christian slowly made his way to the half-kitchen and refilled his plastic water bottle. He tilted his head as he took a long sip, the paper bag from the estate sale on the counter. "What's this?" he asked, pulling out one of the jewelry boxes and snapping it open to look inside.

"Present from my mom," Blaine told him off-handedly, and Christian turned to him with a curious expression.

"I didn't think this was your mom's style," he said, and Blaine suddenly realized that he'd opened the box with the brooch.

"Oh," he said lamely. "No, the necklace is for her."

"And this?"

Blaine tried to shrug casually. "I just... got it," he said.

"Not for yourself," Christian pressed on. "And not for me." He paused, realization slowly setting in. He laughed, cold and bitter, shaking his head. "For _him_." He narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "It is, isn't it?"

The darker-haired man didn't answer. Christian took in a deep breath. "Look, this is _not_ okay," he said, doing his best to keep his tone angrily. "I know that when we met, when we started dating, I was coming out of a bad break-up, and you weren't over your ex, either. I know that we don't talk about the guys we used to date, especially you. But I thought we got over that, Blaine! If you don't want to be with me, than we need to end this _now_."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "I want to be with you," he said. "I love you, Christian."

"I know," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I love you, too." He looked at Blaine again. "I don't want it to be like this anymore, Blaine," he told him. "I want to know that it's just you and me." He paused, licking his lips. "I know we talked about... taking a break or whatever when you went to Europe, and when I go to Greece. But, well... you're not going anymore. And I'll only be gone for two weeks." Another pause. "I want to come to Ohio with you, once I'm back. I want us to get married."

Blaine stared at him blankly for a moment. "Seriously?" he asked.

"It wasn't the way I wanted to propose," Christian sighed. "I had other ideas in mind, but—"

He was cut off as Blaine kissed him harshly on the mouth. "No," Blaine muttered. "It's fine, it's perfect. I—yes. Yes, I want to."

Christian smiled softly at him, grabbing onto Blaine's face and pulling him in for another kiss.


	4. wedding: chapter three outtake

**learn to fly**

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><p><strong>wedding : chapter three outtake;<strong>

It had been a three o'clock wedding.

Or it was supposed to be. Blaine wasn't sure about the correct wording for it anymore. Something dull ached inside his chest as he walked along one of the tables in the hall where the reception was supposed to have been, his fingers tracing the edge of it.

He glanced vaguely at the clock on the far wall. Six o'clock.

After an hour of waiting, one of his groomsmen—he thought maybe it had been Thad or Trent, though he couldn't be certain anymore—had gently told him Christian wasn't coming, and they were going to have to send everyone home.

He remembered the look of heartbreak on Ella's face, dressed like a princess, still clutching her basket of flowers. Her mother Julia had clutched Blaine's hand tightly and sympathetically, while her father, Blaine's brother, had repeatedly asked if he needed _anything_. But Blaine shook his head and assured them he'd see them at their house a little bit later. He told them he just needed a moment alone, and Julia nodded understandingly, giving his fingers one last squeeze before their small family left.

Blaine took a shaky breath, sitting down on the edge of the small platform at the front where the band was supposed to have set up, where he was half-certain his friends would have commandeered the mic at one point to sing their own songs, just as they did at Wes's wedding. His lips twitched slightly, as if to _almost_ smile at what might have been.

He heard the door open at the far end of the dark room. He glanced up, watching a familiar figure approach him. His heartbeat quickened, and he licked his lips.

"You came," Blaine commented breathlessly and the man stared at him before directing his attention away again.

"You're still here," Christian murmured. Blaine swallowed, nodding slowly.

"I didn't know what else to do with myself," he admitted, and Christian shook his head. "Where were you?" Blaine asked in a soft voice.

"Blaine..." Christian said slowly. He shut his eyes tightly. "I can't do this anymore."

"What?" Blaine asked, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his lips, as though he hadn't heard the other man properly.

Christian sighed, sitting beside Blaine on the platform. "I love you," he assured him. "I just... I can't do this."

"If you don't want to get married, that's fine, we—"

"No," Christian quickly cut across. He sighed frustratedly, dragging his hand over his face. "I was with someone else today," he told Blaine quietly. He waited several moments for Blaine to say something, but instead he was silent. Christian shook his head again. "It wasn't just today," he admitted softly.

"How long?" Blaine asked. Christian didn't respond, and Blaine inhaled deeply. "Before or after we got engaged, then?" he asked, anger and hurt finally seeping into his words.

Christian merely hung his head. "Before," he said, hardly audibly.

"Are you serious?" he snapped. "I—you—what you said... it meant nothing, didn't it? All that it being '_just you and me_'?"

Christian closed his eyes. "Please don't ask me why I did it, Blaine, because I don't know," he told him quietly. "I'm so sorry." He turned to him. "I honestly wasn't trying to hurt you."

Blaine shook his head. "I just don't understand how you could—" He broke off, taking a deep breath. "I..."

"Come on, Blaine, our entire fucking relationship was a sham," Christian said bitterly.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "I _loved_ you—"

"And I loved you!" Christian told him. "I still love you, Blaine." He shook his head. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me right now that never, during our entire relationship, did you ever either want to kiss someone else, or imagine that you were."

Blaine glanced away, feeling a sharp pang of guilt. Truthfully, there had been the briefest moments when a fleeting memory had made its way right into Blaine's head. But _still_...

"You never acted on it," Christian said, voicing Blaine's thought. "I guess that makes you a better person than me."

"I wanted to spend my life with you," Blaine whispered.

"No," Christian said. "It wouldn't have been right for either of us." He sighed. "I still love you," he murmured, getting to his feet. "Maybe one day—"

"No," Blaine cut across him. "I never want to see you again. Especially if you're about to walk right back out those doors. You do that, you're walking out of my life for good."

Christian was about to move his hand to Blaine's shoulder, but thought better of it, pulling it back to his side. "Please believe me that I am sorry, Blaine," he said again. However, the man didn't look up to him again, and Christian sucked in a breath, turning and walking down the pathway between the tables, and out the doors.


	5. soulmate: chapter three outtake

**learn to fly**

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><p><strong>soulmate : chapter 3 outtake;<strong>

It was mentioned in passing. He was on the phone with Rachel, who was inviting him to some performance she and Kurt were in, their final performance at NYADA. At first, he didn't think he heard it correctly. He thought that maybe he misunderstood.

"Alex?" Blaine repeated lamely. Surely Rachel wasn't implying—

"_Kurt's new boyfriend_," she told him quickly. Then, a pause. "_He... he didn't tell you?_"

"No," Blaine muttered awkwardly. "He—I... I mean, we've both been so busy..."

"_Right_," Rachel said hesitantly.

"So... what's he like?" Blaine asked. "Alex, I mean."

"_He's the best_," Rachel quickly told him. "_He's so sweet, and so handsome. He's so good to Kurt, and... goodness, they're so great together."_

"Yeah, I bet," Blaine grumbled.

Rachel sighed heavily from the other end of the line. _"Blaine, you're not still on about this... thing... with Kurt, are you_?"

"Thing?" Blaine asked indignantly. "It wasn't just some '_thing_', Rachel. He's my _soulmate._"

"_Blaine..._" Rachel sighed again. "_You broke up two years ago._ _I had hoped you had let this go._" Blaine didn't respond, and Rachel added quietly, "_Kurt did._"

Blaine froze, the anger inside him reaching a breaking point. "Look, I've got to go," he muttered.

"_Blaine—"_

"I'll see if I can make the show," he added. "But I honestly doubt it." And without another word, he ended the call.

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><p>It was again Rachel that told him, two years later, when Alex apparently proposed to Kurt.<p>

And Kurt had said yes.

And immediately Blaine regretted taking an extra semester to complete his minor, and the next day he completely failed his final exam. (Thankfully it wasn't enough to utterly destroy his grade.)

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><p>Blaine had hesitantly responded 'yes' to the invitation to Kurt's wedding. There was still a dull ache in his chest every time he thought about the idea that it wasn't him. Part of him felt like it should be.<p>

But, he reasoned, he also knew that it never would be.

For a long while he had taken to writing Alex off as a villain, and told himself that he could easily wait for the moment when he needed to ride in and rescue Kurt. But then, at last, he had met the man. And then he really had no doubt in his mind that he really was the perfect man for Kurt.

And maybe that made it all worse.

He had to give Kurt credit that he could plan a perfect wedding. And he gave him the biggest grin and the most heart-felt congratulations, and Kurt hugged him close in thanks.

And honestly, part of Blaine wished he hadn't gone after all.

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><p>"Did you hear that Blaine's got himself a boyfriend?" Rachel asked, mixing the bowl of cake batter in Kurt's kitchen.<p>

Kurt glanced at her. "Really?" he responded.

"Some guy named Christian," she continued. "He seems like a pretty good guy, at least the way he talks about him."

Kurt grinned at her. "We should invite them out," he said. "I just wish they'd met a few months earlier—maybe then Blaine could have dragged him along to the wedding."

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><p>"I'm happy for him," Kurt assured Rachel, as they drank their coffee. "But, honestly... I mean, they've been together on and off for a year, now?" He sighed, spinning his own wedding band around his finger. "I just think he's moving too fast."<p>

"Then tell him that," Rachel said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I really doubt that _I'm_ the one who should be telling him something like that," he said pointedly.

Rachel stared at him for a moment before carefully tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're right," she said seriously. "I think you should stay out of it."

Kurt quirked a brow. "You do?" he asked hesitantly. He hadn't exactly expected her to agree.

"I think that you'd just be opening up old wounds," she told him. He paused, but then nodded, biting his lip.

"Maybe you're right."

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><p>"He's precious," Blaine said to Tina, in regards to the child in her arms.<p>

She smiled at him. "He's turning one in just a couple weeks," she said.

He sighed. "I'm really sorry I haven't been around to see him yet..."

She waved him off. "Please, a lot of our friends still haven't," she said. "Mercedes hasn't visited home in ages, and Rachel never has time when she visits. Same with Kurt." She looked up at him. "I hope he does though. I want our kids to be friends. You heard he just adopted a boy, too? Him and Alex."

"Yeah," Blaine responded lamely. "He told me last week."

She nodded, then paused slightly, looking hesitantly at Blaine. "You don't still think about him, do you?"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "That'd be ridiculous. You know I'm engaged. Nah, I got over Kurt a long time ago."

She nodded slowly. "But you're still friends, right?"

"Yeah," he assured her. "We are, and our kids will be too. So will this little one." He leaned in to make a face at the boy as he giggled in his mother's arms. He glanced back up at Tina and gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile.

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><p>Kurt wondered if he should have gone after all.<p>

He fidgeted with his shirt slightly, sitting on the plane back to New York, Aiden at his side, looking eagerly out the window. Kurt sighed, leaning back in his chair.

He definitely should have gone.

He should have been there for the boy—the _man—_that had once been his best friend. Even if they weren't as close any more, he at least owed him that.

He _could_ have gone. He didn't have any business to attend to in L.A., that was all Alex, but Kurt had excused himself in order to go with Alex. Because Rachel had slowly convinced him it was better.

It was the little comments. Little things about '_hurting Blaine_' and _'old wounds_' and '_he still loved you, two years after_'. And then he couldn't force himself to go to the wedding. So when Alex said he had to go out of town, he had offered to go with him, to show Aiden the city.

And now Christian had left his once best friend at the alter.

He smiled faintly at his husband, as the man sat down in the seat on his other side, casually slipping his hand in his.

Yet all Kurt could desperately think of was how he fucked up. He should have seen the signs, from the break-ups and make-ups to the fast engagement to the years of being engaged to the finally rushed wedding. He should have done something to fix it. But, he reasoned, he couldn't have. He could only fix it now.

He would call him the moment he got back to New York, he would, he had to. He had to at least try to make it a little better.

Because he wasn't just feeling the guilt for what Christian had done to break Blaine's heart, but what Kurt had done himself, years before.

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><p>Blaine stared at the text on his screen uneasily. Ella had at last fallen back to sleep, after another nightmare (he'd been assured it was normal after what she'd been through, but Blaine's heart continued to ache for her and found himself constantly researching online for any tricks or tips). Finally Blaine had returned to his bedroom, picking up his cell phone to see the missed call and the text message.<p>

"_Major importance. Call immediately. **Rachel"_

He hesitated, but pushed the call button anyway.

"_Oh Blaine, thank god," _she gushed, after only one ring. "_I was—I'm the one who's making the calls about all this."_

Blaine's stomach churned slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"_Alex—Kurt's husband—he was killed last night_," she reported, and he could hear in her voice that she was close to tears.

Blaine was silent. Of all the things he possibly expected to hear, this was not one of them. "What?" he responded lamely.

"_Last night, Alex was_—"

"No," Blaine quickly said, "I heard you, I just... I..."

"_I know._"

There was silence for a few moments on either side of the line, as the idea sunk in for Blaine. He felt sick to his stomach. _Never_ would he wished this upon Kurt. Hell, even as jealous as he might have been at first, he never once had any truly ill will against Alex.

At first, he had wanted to hate him. And maybe he even did, just a little bit. But when he actually met the man... when he saw how happy he made Kurt, saw how perfect they were (though it pained him to admit it)... well, he couldn't. He made Kurt happy, and that was _all_ that mattered.

"_He's moving back to Ohio,_" Rachel finally told him, breaking the quiet, and this was probably the worst part of it to Blaine: the fact that Kurt was leaving his dream behind because, Blaine could only assume, it was simply too painful. _"In with his dad and Carole._"

"I..." he mumbled, thinking desperately, trying to find something he could say. "Could I—could you give me Finn's number?"

"_Finn's number?_" Rachel inquired slowly. "_Not—"_

"Not Kurt's," Blaine quickly said. "I don't... I don't want to push him."` He sighed, running a hand over his face. "I figure this will just..."

"_Yeah,_" Rachel said. "_Yeah, no, I—I understand._" A pause. "_Let me just—I'll text it to you, all right?_"

"Yeah," Blaine responded. "And Rachel? Thanks for letting me know."


End file.
